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Carpe Deum! Seize the day! Yeah, Right!
Thirty years have passed, The process is still in motion!
It’s more of a drunken stumble than a walk.
I couldn’t feel, so I learned to talk.
Silence had no content, no form.
Nature abhors a vacuum; so do I:
like its domestic namesake, it sucks.
It is like a Petit mort (a small death).
Poised,waiting to fill it are lurking swarms
of doubt, mistrust, casual cruelties, contempt and lies.
It is a naive, desperate, stubborn act of Will to say “No!”,
to cling to hope - however small and battered it may be -
to embrace, without question or pause, the ragged remnants of of all that is loving;
to exclaim that the true measure of life is the living of it!
In full knowledge that Death is patiently waiting, absolute and incontrovertible.
2
That is our contradiction, our challenge, our quest,
to embrace the challenge and unpredictability of life,
and acknowledge the certainty of Death;
to defiantly proclaim. “Not Yet!”.
To weather the mocking silence of despair.
“Why do I proclaim such an imperative on hope:
and the reasonable expectation of the
inevitability of the return of hope?
Even in the darkest night,
to see a flickering light?”
3
“This is my reply!
To not do so would be to cravenly surrender to - and drown in -
the ocean of despair that calls me syrup-sweet and siren-like to oblivion!
To recognise and accept the challenges of adversity is not to give in,
give up or abdicate one’s imperative responsibility in life:
to take steps, actions or the setting of goals,
to validate one’s existence, to celebrate success in whatever form it comes;
have reason to to believe that hope is achievable
and hope that the application of reason is a pathway
to experiencing the re-birth of hope.
4
“Cry Havoc! Unleash the dogs of war!”
Even in the tumult and carnage of battle
we will celebrate our shared humanity!
We will sing our fractured song of praise.
We will shout our lonely “Hallelujah!”
We, the living: unpredictable, inconsistent,
perverse (even) as we may be
in our faltering yet stubborn adherence
to an absurd faith in the power of Love and Life;
we have a final line of defence.
5
To dream impossible dreams
We create, we procreate; dream impossible dreams
- and do our best to make them happen.
We share, record and transmit those things we value.
we influence, argue; agree and disagree, assimilate and accommodate
information and experiences as we grow individually and collectively
and adapt.
In such a collective consciousness is our power.
as one passes the (sometimes, barely flickering) torch of hope to another.
6
Have no doubts
There will be more battles, more stunned and shocked silence:
more admonishment of the collective components
of “Who” and “What” we are, to hold firm and resolute.
This time, the Will can face the Foe; challenge it;
hold up a battered bridal bouquet, and say,
“Death, where is thy sting?”.
You might take my body, my vitality: all that I am;
I will be immortal, treasured and sustained
in the loving thoughts and memories of others.
I can face my nemesis, and say:
“The world will be better for this,
that one man scorned and covered with scars,
still strove with his last ounce of courage,
to reach the unreachable stars!”1
Les Bush
1. From “To Dream An Impossible Dream”, from “Man of La Mancha”
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1OtCkMjdM1HE18CPacDSYw7BlMkT6Owy7Tr-GinYKAeE/edit?usp=sharing
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